


Black Gold

by Princess_Laubie



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 09:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3763831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Laubie/pseuds/Princess_Laubie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of John Granby. Focuses on his life and adventures pre-Temeraire as well as his persepctive of the events in the series up to Blood of Tyrants. WARNING: rated M for language and descriptions of battle. Contains a LOT of spoilers for the series as well as various OC's of my own invention. Contains various pairings, including yaoi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He watched intently through the bannister at his parents below, locked in a furious argument, his mother rocking the baby back and forth. He didn't like it when his father shouted and he slapped his hands up against his ears to block out some of the sound. He didn't really know what they were discussing anyway, though the little baby didn't seem to care and silently he laid there, oblivious to the torrent around him.

"What's going on?" Lizzy whispered in his ear.

"Shh," he silenced her severely, his finger pressed tight to his lips as he tried to interpret his parent's squabble. She was only five so he definitely had seniority over her, being six.

"It's another mouth to feed!" he father fumed.

"Oh Frank! He's only little and he's still on milk!"

"But for how much longer?"

"Don't tell me we are on such hard times that we should have to give up our baby…"

"I am putting my foot down Hannah. He will do much better in service than sticking round 'ere and hanging on with the business after me and Francis."

Francis' ears pricked up at the mention of his name. His father was called Francis too, but everyone called him Frank. Francis liked that even though he shared his father's name he could lay claim to one that was actually entirely his. None of his classmates were called Francis. It was a family name and he had to be very proud of it.

"Fran-is where mummy?" his little sister Phyllis asked, also emerging from the nursery and popping her tiny head next to Lizzy's. Phyllis was only two, but she had recently been supplanted as the youngest in their household by the new baby.  
Francis's new brother was a squalling, red-skinned little thing that looked to him to be very much like a goblin. He remembered Phyllis when she was born and she always looked like a little doll, but his new brother was noisy and squawked constantly. Francis didn't think he liked him very much. But now he was a bit worried because little John, who was always so loud and unpleasant, was silent beneath his parent's raised voices. Perhaps his father had hurt the little boy. He hoped not. Francis didn't much care for his new brother, but he wouldn't have liked to see him hurt, even if his father didn't want to feed him.

"Lizzy, we shall have to sneak to the kitchen tonight and get some food for John. Father is telling mother not to feed him and I am worried he will be hungry."

"But won't mother give him some milk?" his sister enquired.

"Yes, but when he gets bigger he will need grown-up food and Father said there is not enough. We should start collecting some now so that we can feed him."

"I think that's a silly idea," Lizzy told him with a huff.

"Well you are too fat anyway. You don't want the baby to starve do you?"

"I suppose not," she said glumly.

"Where mummy?" Phyllis asked again, even though she was looking directly at her through the bannister. Francis thought Phyllis may be stupid.

A few weeks later he received a good and proper hiding from Father, he and Lizzy both. They had been collecting food for when John got too big for milk and it had rotted away under the small floorboard in the nursery and caused an unpleasant stink. Francis couldn't sit down properly for days.

"What were you thinking dear one?" his mother had asked him whilst smoothing his hair affectionately after his beating had been served. He had taken Lizzy's punishment too as she was a girl, though her bed time was brought forward a whole hour to compensate.

"Well I do not want John to starve," he explained.

"And why on earth would John starve?" his mother asked him.

"Well Father said we may not have enough money to feed him, so I thought that if we collected a small part of our dinner every day, me and Lizzy, that we could gather enough so he wouldn't be hungry when he got too big for milk."

"And you heard Father say that?"

"Yes. When he was shouting. Is John going to be alright Mama? I don't like it when he cries, but I am his big brother after all."

"And you are a fine big brother to think so generously of John. But you needn't fret. Baby John won't go hungry and we will feed him the same as all of you when he is big enough."

"So we do have enough money to feed him?"

His mother looked worried suddenly and Francis held her hand to try and comfort her, but she smiled warmly at him, her green eyes so pretty and shiny in the lamplight.

"Well when he is older – much older mind you – we will likely have to give him up my dear. Five children is a lot for one family and one household, especially three sons. As parents it is our duty to make sure you all have the best lives you can and the business will be yours one day as you are the eldest. There will be nothing for Emlyn and John to inherit so they need to have different careers. Emlyn will likely go into the army and into your Uncle's regiment, but we cannot impose John on him too, it would not be fair."

"But where will we send him?" Francis enquired warily.

"Well your father recently delivered some coal to a Dragon covert in Scotland and has done a little business there. He has made an acquaintance of the Admiral and they are always looking for recruits there, so Father thinks we should send John to them, so he may train as an Aviator."

"With dragons?"

"Yes dear, with dragons."

"I would be scared to go live with the dragons," Francis told her.

"That is why I was arguing with your father. I think John would be scared too and I don't want him to be scared. I don't want any of my babies to be scared," she told him tenderly, kissing his hand.

"Well I am not a baby anymore," he told her authoritatively. "And when John is bigger I think the dragons will be more scared of him anyway, he screams so loud."

His mother laughed at that and wished him goodnight.


	2. Rookie Error

"You have to go live with the dragons."

He would always remember his brother's words, said in a moment of anger when John had broken his favourite toy. Francis had been thirteen when he had left and John had not cried, even then. He remembered thinking, "I shall show you Francis, I will go and live with the dragons but I shall not be scared of them."

Of course, deep down he had been petrified. He left his family home when he was so young, a mere week after his brother Emlyn had left to serve in the militia alongside their Uncle. But Emlyn had been four years older than him. Seven was the youngest a covert would accept, so off he went when he was seven. He had enquired once why he could not be in the army too, but his Father had merely told him that they could not impose another son in such a way.

He had been trying his whole life to not feel like an imposition, without much success. Even at the Edinburgh covert he had felt it as soon as he had arrived. He was the youngest by around two years of any of the other boys and girls and was often put upon or excluded for being small. He had always had to fight for his place, but he knew his place was here. He belonged with the dragons. Even though he had been scared at first, he loved his life here. As the youngest he had been at a disadvantage, but that had only made him more determined and he had made Ensign by the time he was ten, before most of the others in his class. And he had grown tall, which helped a great deal.

He knew his mother had not wanted him to go and join the Aerial Corps, that she had fought it every turn. But when his father died of pneumonia she had had no choice. A widow in her position could not hope of supporting him. Francis had taken over at the business, but was only fourteen himself and a lot of the company had to be sold off and a Board appointed to govern his father's legacy.

Mother did not have any choice and she sent both him and Emlyn off, within a week of each other, no longer able to financially support them all. She would have to look after Francis until he could claim back some of the coal supply business and she also had his two sisters to support until they married. But for his part he had always been intended for the Corps. Although his mother had said over and over that she did not want him to go and have this life, Francis' words had always rang true. In a way, he felt as though it had always been his destiny.

He observed his reflection critically in the mirror. He was only seventeen and he had already made third lieutenant aboard Fluitare. A wonderful opportunity for someone so young. He had turned his fortunes around himself, though. From the runt of the litter he had grown tall and strong and was now considered particularly talented. He was well liked by his peers and superiors alike and enjoyed covert life as well as serving aboard dragons. He would probably never make Captain himself, not having anyone to pave his way, but he hoped that he would claim enough renown to help out his own children and even some of his nephews in ascending through the ranks of the Corps if they so wished.

Then why did he always feel so out of place?

He had tried so hard to turn his fortunes around and make something of himself, and he felt this he had achieved or at least was about to achieve But he could not shake the feeling that he still did not belong.

* * *

"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant Granby," Lieutenant Merrick greeted him as he embarked. Fluitare was a great Checkered Nettle with around thirty years flying experience and his Captain (his second) was well-seasoned and greying. But Captain Anstell was a good man and all the officers Granby knew who had served under him spoke very highly of his intelligence and kindness.

"Thank you," he replied to the First Lieutenant, before being directed to his official posting. It was an honour to serve as an Officer aboard a heavyweight beast and he was excited to get started, even if they were only on coastal patrol duty, Fluitare still recovering from a cold. He was also glad they were to be stationed at Loch Laggan. He would miss Edinburgh, but it would be nice to have a change.

It didn't go unnoticed that he stayed behind once they had landed to check over Fluitare's harness with the Ground Crew. He had found it useful in the past to make friends with the harnessmen, who were the biggest gossips, and he would readily find any of them willing for company.

"So did you enjoy your first flight aboard the old fellow?" Merrick asked him, surprising him from behind. He wouldn't have expected the First Lieutenant to stick around unless the dragon had been injured.

"Is that my new Third Lieutenant Merrick?" Fluitare asked, his deep voice rumbling as he craned his head down to peer at Granby.

"Lieutenant John Granby at your service," he told the beast and gave a short bow.

"He has excellent manners, Merrick," Fluitare said in approval. "Be sure to show him around."

"Of course," Merrick enthused and gave the dragon a pat on his nose affectionately. "What would you like to see first?"

"I have to admit this is not my first time here – I visited as an Ensign aboard Actionis. But I always enjoyed the baths and was thinking of heading there."

"How old were you at your last visit?" Merrick asked him as they walked off in each other's company. It was a strange question and he took a while to answer, trying to figure out the dates in his head.

"Why, I must have been around twelve at my last visit," he answered nevertheless.

"Ah, then the baths is not where we are headed," Merrick said as he slapped him heartily across his back and walked off exuberantly, leaving him to stay and scratch his head a moment before running to keep up with the First Lieutenant.

They headed instead to the perimeter of the covert, where a group of other young officers stood around, apparently waiting for them.

"There you are!" One dark-haired boy, probably only a few years older than himself called out and Merrick gave a wave in recognition.

"This is Granby – the new Third on Fluitare," Merrick introduced him to the others. "Are we waiting for anyone else?" he asked as he was handed a dark cloak and shrugged it over his shoulders. Then he was handed a cloak too by a podgy sandy-haired youth. He accepted the cloak but looked over to Merrick in puzzlement.

"No, nobody else," the dark-haired boy replied to Merrick. "Hullo, believe we met before. It's Collins – we served aboard Actionis together."

He remembered him and shook his hand gratefully. It had been a number of years and he remembered Allistair Collins as an energetic and boisterous boy and his toothy grin indicated he had not changed too much. He was three years older, but he remembered they had had a good few games of football together as Ensigns.

"Come on lads!" Merrick announced and led their group out of the covert.

They made their way across the craggy land that surrounded their covert as the light and headed towards a small ball of light in the distance – the local Village. The day was fading fast and the village looked to burn brightly from afar.

"So is anyone going to tell me why we are off to the village at this hour?" Granby asked loudly, directing the question in Collins' direction.

"We're going to Molly's of course!" another of their party, a young man who looked to be in his early twenties responded chirpily and a cheer went up from the group.

It was quite clear when they arrived at their destination, a small rickety detached cottage on the western edge of the village that 'Molly' was in fact the Madam of the local brothel. Granby balked at the idea and almost stumbled over in surprise, but Merrick slapped him on the back.

"What's wrong Granby?" Collins asked jovially when he spied his expression.

"Ah come on Collins don't be such a clod, it's his first time!" Merrick roared, which again initiated many whoops and cheers from the rest of the party. He was very much taken aback and slightly mortified. Before he knew it he had been bundled inside with the rest of them and was sat in a corner drinking strong cheap whiskey. Merrick was sat opposite him with a young girl on his lap and laughing raucously. All of the other officers were either sat around and drinking and in similar positions to Merrick, surrounded by young girls wearing next to nothing, or had disappeared entirely.

"Carla!" Merrick yelled out and a small, petite girl with yellow hair smiled back from across the room, in the midst of pouring out some more whiskey into beakers. She finished what she was doing and then came over.

"This here is Granby."

He almost choked on his drink.

"How do you like Carla?" he asked, his face ruddy from the drink. Granby gulped some air nervously.

"A green one is it George?" she asked in a thick Inverness-shire accent. The other girl sat on Merrick's lap downed her beaker of whiskey and belched loudly.

"Aye – he's young but I bet he's spirited!" Merrick enthused to Carla.

"It's half a crown for a go love," she told him with a smile.

"No, thank you," Granby responded almost automatically.

"Never fear, consider it a welcome gift!" Merrick told him enthusiastically.

He was about to protest, manners be damned, but the girl was up and pulling him by his arm before he was able to get out a single syllable. He stuttered as she led him out of the room and down a dark corridor.

"What's wrong? You afflicted or something?" she asked with a giggle.

"No," he answered petulantly as she led him through a thick wooden door banded with iron and shut it behind her with a heave. The room was poorly lit by only a couple of candles and he squinted to see anything, but just about managed to make out the shape of a cot in the corner, to which Carla went and laid herself down.

"Well come on then," she called out to him through the darkness. "I don't have all night." Her voice was high-pitched and had a whistling quality to it that was really starting to grate on him. He went and sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at her with curiosity.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"It's just that I've never done this before," he confided softly, though his body was screaming for him to run away as fast as he could.

"Don't worry dearie, I'll show you where to put it," Clara told him in what he supposed was meant to be a comforting tone. He barked a laugh at her crassness but then jumped a mile when her hand appeared suddenly on his crotch.

"What's wrong?" she enquired automatically.

He honestly didn't know what to tell her, but she sat there looking expectantly at him with her dirty face and he had to say something.

"I guess I'm just not ready," he told her. Rather than dissuading her, she then began to fondle him through his trousers and he shut his eyes and tried to think of something else. It wasn't until she began kissing his neck, her soft and grimy skin up against his own and her thin yellow hair dangling in his eyes that he leapt up.

"Come back dear, I didn't mean to scare you," she purred at him and then unlaced her dress, her white breasts spilling out. He looked away.

"No, I'd really rather not," he said, panic rising in his throat.

"What? Are you an invert or something? Lord, I knew you was afflicted," she said, sinking back onto the bed. "Well, you won't get a refund."

"I – I am NOT an invert!" he told her indignantly.

"Well then what's wrong with you? It's all settled – why won't you fuck me?"

To that, Granby did not have an answer. Unless he let himself agree to her accusation he really had no choice but to go through with it, even though the very thought revolted him.

He threw stones into the puddle and watched forlornly as they splashed in the muddy water.

"There you are Granby!" Merrick greeted him. "We're headed back now – here's your cloak. You left it inside."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"Now that does not sound like a lad who just enjoyed my Welcome present," Merrick observed and sat on the rough log beside him. "Did you not like Carla?"

"Oh, yes, of course I did. Um, thank you?" he returned. He could hardly admit what actually happened.

"You're a terrible liar," Merrick told him. Granby looked into his mirthful face, his eyes widened in protest as he stammered out non-coherent words, trying to find an excuse.

"Was she not your 'type'?" he enquired and arched an eyebrow. Merrick had light brown hair that curled at the ends and glassy blue eyes and, in that moment, he couldn't help but see the resemblance between his and Carla's colouring. He tried to push the perverted thoughts he suddenly had to the back of his mind and breathe.

"Well, if you are an invert it don't matter too much here," Merrick said with a shrug.

"I never said…"

"I know, but it's written all over your face."

It was highly illegal to be an invert and Granby would deny the term applying to him vehemently, but he could not deny to himself that he had suspected he might be for a while. He had no intention of acting on such impulses.

However, he saw Merrick sway with inebriation and couldn't help his curiosity.

"Are there many inverts in the Corps?"

"Fair few I know of. Probably more who I don't know of." He hiccupped.

Granby will never know what exactly came over him but it was as though his body was acting involuntarily, like his brain had been left behind somewhere and forgotten and he leant over and kissed Merrick on the lips.

His heart practically stopped when he realised what he was doing and he went to pull away but Merrick grabbed the back of his head and crushed them together further, returning the kiss passionately. His body was hot and cold all at the same time. He felt like he had just been plunged into an icy pool, every inch of his skin alive and stinging.

There was a yell from around the front of the cottage and Merrick broke apart suddenly and staggered to his feet.

"Just coming lads!" he yelled out and stumbled away to re-join the group without even a look back.

Granby had to run to catch them, his cloak billowing behind him. When he had caught up the group gave another cheer.

"Clearly you enjoyed yourself!" Collins said. He and another young officer were currently supporting Merrick, one under each arm. He was blind drunk and all Granby could think of was "Thank God". At least he could deny the event around the back of the cottage with reasonable temerity and expect to get away with it. But it had been close. He sighed in relief.

"Wow. That good?" another of the group enquired and slapped him across his back.

He didn't sleep well that night. Images of Merrick flooded his mind. Part of him was thankful and relieved that nothing more had happened and that the First Lieutenant was unlikely to remember it in the morning, but another part of him was still clinging onto some absurd hope that Merrick may be interested in returning these dangerous sentiments.

It was ludicrous not to mention highly dangerous.


	3. Hit or Twist

The next morning, Granby went to Fluitare's clearing in a sullen if not highly nervous state. What if Merrick _did_ in fact remember what he had done the night before and was affronted? Where would he be then? In jail most likely, perhaps dismissed from the service only and sent home if they were feeling lenient. Either way he was facing disaster should Merrick remember and tell anyone what he did.

His worst fear were realised when Captain Anstell approached him directly before he reached the clearing.

"Good morning Granby," he greeted suspiciously cheerfully. "Mind if I have a word in private? Fluitare's harness needs some extra attention before we take off so we have at least and hour twiddling our thumbs."

Granby groaned silently. Hopefully it would just be a simple reproof from the Captain and a warning that he would be keeping an eye on him and any future 'transgressions'. The Captain led Granby back into the main building and proceeded to his private chambers. Granby felt he was following like a small lamb to slaughter.

He made his way into the room; sparsely furnished like any other Aviator's quarters, save for a large writing desk up against the Eastern wall. Captain Anstell was much like any other Captain, he supposed, if now getting on in years. Granby would have guessed forty if he had to put money on it. Except, of course, he privately hoped that the Captain's renown for being measured and kind may apply to his case.  
The man was tall, perhaps as tall as himself, his brown wavy hair still handsome despite its covering of silver. He had a sharp grey goatee, not very fashionable nowadays, but it made his chin and jaw look strong. He spoke in a quiet, thoughtful voice and his hazel eyes shone intelligently.

"I think you know why you are here Lieutenant," he told him, standing as straight as he could no doubt measuring his authority over Granby by taking full advantage of his stature.

"I cannot say for sure, sir," Granby replied, perhaps a little more formally than usual and the Captain's brow furrowed in thought, perhaps pondering how he should broach such a sensitive subject.

"Well now, I shan't beat about it Granby. Lieutenant Merrick informed me of an incident down at Laggan Village last night."

"Sir? I am afraid I am still none the wiser."

"Do you deny then that you and a group of other young officers of this covert, including First Lieutenant Merrick, visited a house of ill repute last night?"

His frankness took Granby aback just as much as its unexpectedness. That was not what he was expecting to get reproached for.

"Sir, I shall not deny that which is true."

The Captain smiled at him and seemed to relax. "Good," he said and took off his sword belt from around his waist, setting it down upon his dresser.

""Then you shan't deny that Lieutenant Merrick… er, purchased… the services of a young lady upon your behalf?"

"No sir I shan't deny it," Granby said, bowing his head and having the decency to look embarrassed.

"Neither you shall deny, I suppose, that you refused this young lady for the service in which she was engaged."

Granby started and felt the blood drain from his face. It was as he feared then and the conversation was rapidly heading in the direction in which he had dreaded.

"Sir, I did not have relations of any lady last night," he told the Captain, partly in truth, though he couldn't help but remember poor Carla trying her best upon him. However, this would not have been an issue ordinarily. Perhaps it would have been frowned upon by some of the senior members of the Admiralty, but sailors and aviators alike were known to frequent brothels, they were even famed for it.

"No, I believe you Granby," the Captain told him and the man set himself upon the edge of his bed and spread himself out in a familiar fashion, denoting a level of informality and comfortableness that was wholly unexpected.

"And I do hope you shan't deny that you kissed Lieutenant Merrick then, last night."

That was it. Cat out of the bag. No, he couldn't deny it but he would be damned if he admitted it and gave the man the satisfaction of a full confession. He may yet save his skin here.

"No sir, I shall not deny it, but neither can I confirm it. We drank a hell of a lot of whiskey last night and I am happy to swear that we were all blind drunk, but nothing more."

The Captain smiled. "I see," he said, sounding a little bemused. "Then do you propose Merrick kissed you?"

Granby faltered for a moment. "Sir, I cannot confirm either way."

"I do understand," the Captain told him slowly. "I know very well the position you may be putting yourself in if a transgression of this nature should become public knowledge. But you understand, I hope, that in the Corps such acts are not necessarily frowned upon?"

"Sir, I do not take your meaning," he replied, bewildered.

"Answer me this then. Is Lieutenant Merrick the first man you have felt an attraction to?"

Granby's heart caught in his throat and he choked.

"Water?" Anstell asked him, suddenly on his feet and offering him a beaker. Granby took it without hesitation and gulped it down with fervour.

"Thank you," he said and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

"Well then?" Anstell addressed him, a small smirk upon his lips as he did so.

"I do not know what you mean," he answered pathetically.

With that Anstell took his face in his hands and kissed him squarely on the mouth. Granby grunted in surprise and tried to pull away, but Anstell held firm. Finally, when Anstell broke away they were both panting and Granby was as confused as ever.

"I hope I was not misplaced," he told Granby with a glimmer in his eye, his mouth rosy from the activity. He tried to speak, to offer some objection, but found he could not speak. Desire was sparking through his body, quite involuntarily and he had to remain very still in order to regain his senses.

"You know, the way I see it you have two choices John," Anstell told him, approaching the bed and sitting down on its edge once more as he untied his neck-cloth. "You can either walk away from here right now and not breathe a word of this to anyone, and if you do you can be sure that I will take Merrick's testimony to Admiral Lenton this very moment before we take off." He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and gazed at him intently. Granby did not make a move, not trusting he could walk properly. "Or," the Captain continued, "you can stay here until we are to leave, have some brandy and continue our discussion."

Granby didn't need to ponder that one. He had a feeling he knew exactly what the Captain meant. And then he found himself laughing to himself. He shook his head in resignation and walked over to the bed, sitting himself down with a flop and running his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. Anstell carefully placed his hand on Granby's thigh, almost timidly as if he were testing water before taking a plunge.

Granby kissed him then and Anstell relaxed and sighed into his mouth. It felt strange, but somehow _right_. He could not explain it, for surely it was a terrible sin, but at that moment he couldn't care less.

"We should probably get going," he told him bravely. He was not sure how long they had been about it and surely they would be missed by the rest of the crew. "Else you will be missed, Captain."

Anstell laughed. "I am sure we can claim a level of familiarity for you to call me Geoffrey. I mean, when we are alone together of course."

Granby smiled at him and pressed his nose into the flesh of his neck affectionately. Anstell stroked his hair softly. "Still _Geoffrey_ we really should be going. We don't want Fluitare to miss you at least."

Anstell sighed and drew himself up. "I suppose you are right," he said, rather sadly. They dressed again in silence, not really looking at one another and a slight awkwardness descended.

"You should leave first John," Anstell said, tidying his neck-cloth in the glass. "Although I am sure no one here would give a fig about all of this, we must nevertheless employ a level of discretion befitting to our ranks."

Granby nodded and pulled on his final boot. He got up and went over to Anstell in a couple of long strides and kissed him again, lingering for a moment on the other man's lips. "Can I see you tonight?" he asked, all hope.

The Captain laughed. "I profess I am not as young as you are John. I should be happy to lend you my company though. Would you play at cards?"

"Of course," Granby replied, unable to quash his broad grin. And he took his leave, a spring in his step unlike any he had ever known of himself.

* * *

They continued for a few weeks in happiness, not really thinking of anyone but themselves. They tried to remain indifferent when on duty, though their closeness couldn't help but be noticed by other members of the crew. Granby had managed to avoid Merrick entirely and acted glumly around him, hoping to give the impression that the Captain had berated him thoroughly for his actions, but he couldn't help but notice the other members of Flutaire's crew gave him the occasional puzzled look.

Then one night, as he was making his way to Anstell's chamber, he ran into Merrick. Literally.

"I beg your pardon," he told Merrick in reflex. Merrick was in a state of undress which, although not entirely unusual of most Aviators when off-duty, was a little unusual to see in the corridors among the Captains' private quarters. He eyed the First Lieutenant suspiciously and then glanced behind, suddenly realising there was really only one place he could have some from as he had just emerged from a dead-end: Captain Anstell's room.

"Granby, let me explain," Merrick told him hurriedly. But Granby pushed past him determinedly and went to Anstell's room. He knocked a couple of times, out of habit, but then barged right in when he had remembered himself.

Captain Anstell, half naked, jumped from his bed with a start and stared at him. Merrick ran up behind him and stopped dead.

"What's going on?" he asked incredulously, his anger boiling away inside him.

"John," Anstell addressed him softly. "Are you upset?"

There was no use denying what had happened here, it was quite plain judging from the picture he saw in front of him.

"I should bloody well think so!" he cried out in a temper.

"Keep your voice down Granby, for God's sake," Merrick warned in a panicked whisper.

"Come now, John, you are behaving like a scorned lady, pray show some understanding."

"He thought he was alone in your affection," Merrick said. John turned around to face him and wanted to punch his smug face in, but Anstell was upon him and dragging him backwards into the room with some force before he was able.

"Shut the door, George," Anstell implored and Merrick complied.

"I believed us to have an understanding," Granby seethed quietly, dangerously, barely holding it together.

"We _do_ have an understanding," Anstell tried to mediate.

"We do _not_ Sir. We cannot have any understanding when one party has no bloody clue what is going on!"

"Come Granby," Merrick tried to wheedle, approaching him slowly. He held out a hand and placed it on Granby's shoulder. "I remember the way you kissed me that night. And if Geoffrey," and he stared pointedly at Anstell who flung his arms in the air in jovial shrug, "will not mind it I daresay we can also come to an arrangement."

His chest hurt and he was not sure if he could breathe. There was a part of his mind that was tempted in some small measure, but his gut was telling him to flee. He wanted to run far away from here and never see these gentlemen ever again.

Granby pushed Merrick's hand savagely from his shoulder and glared at him before storming out of the room, slamming the door hard behind him.


End file.
